Time's Mosaic
by SuperNinjaCrossbowGirl
Summary: Sirius survives until the end of the war, but the war isn't ending with Voldemort's death. In a desperate attempt to save the lives of those they love and have lost, Hermione sends Sirius back in time. But the jump has unforeseen consequences, and things aren't as they were. Fem!Harry Pre-Hogwarts
1. Who the Hell is Harry?

Desolation was the only word to describe the barren streets of what once was the thriving Diagon Alley. Death clung to the air like a tangible fume. There was not a door left to be locked, no windows to be shuddered, no stretch of cobblestone long enough to justify sweeping. Chaos and anarchy used to be words, now they the reality, brought forth by the reign of Voldemort.

The war was almost over, but it was not going to be a joyous end, nor would any peace follow. There was not a person untouched by the mass slaughter led against anyone who did not conform to, or failed the Dark Lord. The toxicity of fear had infected the hearts of Britain as yet another member of the Order of the Phoenix fell and they lost even the small hope provided by their minuscule victories.

But the Order continued to fight, never giving up, until only four remained.

Recently, most of their focus had been on relief where they each found the worst destruction, on account that it was far too dangerous to meet to plan an attack. Unbeknownst to the others, Hermione had kept in brief contact with Sirius about a certain spell that could turn the tide of the war. They had been working on it for nearly three months, and it was finally ready to be presented to the others.

Hermione had picked the spot of their meeting none too lightly. Considering every possible place, and a few impossible places, she had determined that beneath Ollivander's would be the best place to shield the sheer amount of magic from the eyes of Death Eaters for long enough to complete the spell. So she waited, wand ready, for anything to come through the cellar door.

Creaking in the ceiling alerted her to presence of another. Whether it was a Death Eater or a friend was unknown, causing Hermione to sink into the shadows. The door opened and a cautious footing appeared down the stairs. The moonlight from a small crack in the flooring above them caught the top of the intruders hair, illuminating the air around it in a silvery fire.

"Ron!" Hermione breathed, launching herself into his arms.

The man in question started as a shape pounced from behind the shelves, but wasn't able to bring up his wand by the time his mind registered who it was. "Hermione," he whispered back, pulling her closer. "You're alright! I've missed you so much," he mumbled into her curls.

"I've missed you, too," she said, not quite able to hold back the tears from her eyes.

They held each other for a moment, before Ron pulled back. "Who else is coming?"

"I got word to Harry and Sirius, but I don't know if anyone else is left to come."

The loud popping noise associated with Apparition came from their right and both looked over in time to see Sirius Black appear.

"Hello, Sirius," Hermione greeted.

"Hermione, Ron," he acknowledged. A quick glance around the room informed him that Harry had not arrived yet. No matter, he told himself, he would be here. "Have you really done it?" he asked, turning back to Hermione. The turn revealing to himself how hard the war had been on his body. Every joint seemed to creek and rust in protest.

"I've set it up, just like we discussed. It's ready."

"What is?" Ron asked, looking between the two.

"A spell that can change the war," Sirius answered.

"Then let's see it," Harry's voice came from the darkness. He threw off his invisibility cloak and came forward. "I'm sorry, I had to see if you were who you look like."

He was sure he was forgiven as Hermione quickly gave him a hug, followed by Ron.

"Of course," Hermione said.

"Harry," Sirius said as Ron pulled away from the young man. "It's good to see you," he continued, grabbing onto Harry's shoulders to look at his godson before pulling him into a tight hug. "It's damn good to see you," he repeated.

"I know the feeling," Harry said as he turned to look at everyone.

They all shared a small smile and discretely looked each other over for injuries.

"Now, what's this about a spell?" Harry asked.

"It's a time spell, like the time turners, but different. It transfers the consciousness of the subject into their younger or older self."

"Is that even possible?" Ron asked.

Sirius and Hermione shared a look, "We believe it is."

"How do you cast it?" Harry asked, all too aware of the dangers of this meeting and the stakes of the remaining time of the war.

"One moment," Hermione said, crossing the ratted basement to find the package she had stashed a few days prior.

"Before I bring this out," Hermione said, walking over with a burlap bag. "I need you all to be aware of the dangers. Everything I managed to find on the spell said it should not be attempted. The creator of the spell, Winston Deagalo, burned his entire life's work after trying it once."

"Why?" Harry asked. "Couldn't he have just gone back in time and not make it?"

"He said the spell fractures the timeline, that using it could do even more damage than whatever you are trying to undo."

"Like, time is punishing you?" Ron asked.

"Not exactly," Hermione explained. "More like a glass window. If it is hit once, the cracks spiral out in both directions. Time doesn't care if you came from the future or the past, the cracks will happen in the past as well as the future. Deagalo wrote that when he went back, people were different than they were supposed to be, but nothing life threatening. Like his neighbor had a dog instead of two cats, and his sister was under the impression that they hadn't talked in years, when he remembered them always being close."

"So one of us goes back," Sirius began, "and more things are different than just their mind. How do we know if the events we remember happening still will? What if it changes it entirely?"

"I don't think that would happen, Deagalo says the timeline is fractured, not broken."

"Well, screw that, I don't care what's at stake. I'm not going back to find everyone I know is evil," Ron stated, to which everyone rolled their eyes.

"Hermione and I can't make the journey either, it would be pointless. The knowledge to save to world isn't going to help anyone if we can't even pronounce the words correctly. Besides, no one would trust the word of a child. It has to be you, Sirius."

"I know, Harry. I'm not afraid of a few side effects, if it means saving your parents, saving Britain."

"Why August 21st, though? Wouldn't it be easier to appear closer to that night?" Harry asked.

"August 21st is the night I suggested we name Peter the secret keeper. If you send my back to that night, I can stop myself."

Hermione nodded, pulling out a pumpkin-sized time turner. "I have made the device specifically for this jump. Using the same design as a normal time turner but with some modification on the runes."

"It's brilliant, Hermione," Harry said.

"You are going to have to turn it 63 times," she ignored Harry's compliment and Ron's expected sputter.

"63 times? How's he supposed to keep track?" Ron asked.

"He counts, Ronald."

"I can do it, but I have to ask, why so many?" Sirius questioned.

"Time turners aren't meant for traveling more than a few days at the most. I had to stretch the limits of a single turn nearly to breaking point. Even with the modified runes, the device cannot go against it's nature."

"How many days per turn?" Sirius asked, taking the turner from her.

"106. That's why we had to wait until today, to make the turns even."

"63," Sirius repeated. "I better get started then."

They all stepped back to give Sirius some room.

"Before I continue, I need to know I am not the only one making this decision."

"You're right. The responsibility lies with all of us, as we are, here and now," Hermione agreed, Ron nodding along with her.

Harry, knowing what Sirius would need to hear, stepped forward, "We, as the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix, have decided that this is the only way to stop Voldemort, and it is in the best interest of all of Britain, that we weigh the potential changes caused by this time spell against the lives of all we have lost and stand to loose still."

"It's more important to prevent the war," Ron said, seriously. "I would rather know my family was alive and never talk to any of them again, than allow this war to take anyone else's."

Sirius looked to each of them. "It has been an honor fighting alongside of each of you. I will miss you as you are now, but I swear on my life, it will never be necessary for you to become this way again."

Sirius set a brief counting spell on the turner and began twirling the golden ball. They all watched the numbers tick up in silence. When it reached 62, he paused one last time, and lucky he did, because his arms were suddenly full of his godson.

"I'll miss you, Sirius," Harry mumbled into his shoulder.

Sirius clutched him back. Their relationship had always been one of desperate grasping. He wondered selfishly if he will miss the way Harry depended so much on him. No, Harry will have his parents, it is better this way. And Harry will have his Uncle Padfoot, and his Uncle Moony, and perhaps Sirius would introduce him to Ron earlier. That would be more than enough for Sirius. "If I have it my way, Harry, you will never have the need to."

Harry stepped back.

"I will save your parents, Harry. I will save them all."

Then he turned the 63rd round, and Hermione began the spell.

A strong gust picked up around Sirius and continued to build and build until he was standing in the eye of a twister. The wind whipped faster and faster, making it impossible for him to see clearly through to the other side. Still the speed increased. His eyes began to sting, and he fought with the wind to keep them open. Finally, it was too much and his lids slammed shut of their own accord. The moment all went dark, the wind was silenced as well.

A furious burning sensation began in his bones, seeping into his veins and permeating through his muscles. Loud ringing in his ears replaced the silence, the sharp noise growing louder only to recede in a mindless pattern meant to drive a man insane. The fire overtook his lungs, filling them with smoke and shriveling them until the only air allowed into his body took all his strength to gather, the action requiring more air than it retrieved. Pain that was only comparable to the Cruciatus Curse itself swarmed every available receptor in his body. He was in agony.

Then it all stopped and Sirius was left gasping on the floor. It was a cool marble flooring that felt calming against his feverish brow.

"Sirius! Sirius!?" a familiar voice called from above him. "Damn it, Padfoot, what's wrong?"

"M-moony?" Sirius slowly turned his head towards the voice.

"What's happened, Sirius? One minute you were, well, you were . . . and then you collapsed!"

Still disoriented, Sirius managed to roll onto his side and squint up at the shape bent over him. "Remus?" Sirius reached out his hand to grab his friend's shoulder, both testing his true presence and trying to stave off the dizziness. A young Remus Lupin knelt over him, and Sirius felt his chest burst at seeing his old friend alive and well.

"Sirius," Remus said, clutching the other hand of his friend. "What's this about?"

"It worked," Sirius muttered to himself. "It actually worked."

"What worked?" Remus demanded. "If this was some ploy to see if I am a Death Eater, I am at my wits end with your thinly veiled threats. As if I am going to betray James and Lily! As if I would ever betray you!"

Remus ranted above him, and it took Sirius a moment to understand what he was saying. When he did, a familiar shame filled him. "I am sorry, Moony," Sirius interrupted. "I know you would never take the Dark Mark."

Remus looked down at his friend, who had finally deigned to start speaking again, after nearly giving him a heart attack. "What makes you so sure, now? When not five minutes ago you were moments away from demanding to see my left arm?"

"What?" Sirius asked, confused.

Frustrated with the man on the floor, Remus pushed off Sirius's hands and stood up. Walking to the other side of the room, Remus thrust his fingers into his hair, "Are you going mad?"

Sirius was asking himself the same question. If he remembered correctly, he had not confronted Remus about his suspicions until the night of the attack. It was one of the reasons he was not at Goldric's Hollow with the Potters. Wait . . .

Sirius leapt off the ground. "What day is it? Remus! What day is it?"

"What the hell are you going on about now?"

Sirius grabbed the other man's shoulders. "The date, Remus! The date!"

"It's the 31st," Remus stated, trying to bring back some sense into this conversation.

"It can't be. It's supposed to be the 21st. It's supposed to be August the 21st!"

"August?" The werewolf took in the appearance of his friend. Was this the stress of the war? Remus had heard of it driving men to insanity before, but he never imagined it would happen to Sirius.

"Remus! We have to leave! We have to save them,—Where's the damn floo powder—Remus, we have to go!"

"Sirius, calm down, let's just talk about this."

"No! Don't you get it! He knows where they are, he knows where they are. James, Lily, Harry! We must save them!" Sirius found the floo powder and grabbed Remus's wrist, pulling him towards the fireplace.

"Who-" Remus cut himself off as he took in something Sirius had said. "Sirius, who is Harry?"

"He knows where they are! He's probably on his way there now! We have to save them!" Sirius tried to get Remus into the fireplace, but he wasn't moving.

"Sirius who knows? Who is Harry?"

"Voldemort!" Sirius yelled. "Voldemort knows where James and Lily are hiding, he knows their in Godric's Hollow."

"How?" Remus exclaimed. "When did he get to you?"

"No, you old fool! Peter is the secret keeper, I was supposed to be the decoy, but Peter is one of them! He's told Voldemort! We need to go. Please, Remus, trust me," he pleaded.

Remus studied his friend's face and slowly nodded his consent. He stepped into the fireplace and said, "Godric's Hollow."

Even if his friend was crazy, and Remus wouldn't bet against it, the least he could do was try to find James to help him deal with Sirius. Plus, a lunatic makes a dangerous secret keeper. If Sirius was crazy, they would need to get this all sorted before Voldemort did learn the location of the Potters.

Remus stepped out of the fireplace at Godric's Hollow and instantly knew something was wrong. The air was cold, the house too quiet. Suddenly a scream broke from upstairs.

"Lily!" Remus called, taking off towards the stairs. "Lily!"

The floo activated behind him but he paid it no notice.

Sirius arrived just in time to see Remus disappear up the stairs. Instead of following him, he ran to the front door, planning to help James defend the house while Remus guarded Lily and Harry. He pulled open the door only to see a scene that brought him to his knees.

"No," he said as he collapsed.

Unsure if he crawled or walked and uncaring too, Sirius found himself over the body of his best friend, his brother, for the second time in his life. "No!" he begged. "NO!

Suddenly, there was a moment of suspended animation where the entire earth seemed to freeze, and then a violent green light exploded from upstairs. Harry.

Sirius sprinted up the stair to the house and then all the way to the nursery, tracing the same steps he had once before. He hadn't stopped it. He had failed Harry.

"Harry!" Sirius called as he burst through the door to find Remus holding a pink bundle over two bodies he couldn't bare to look at.

"Sirius," Remus yelled through his own tears, "Who the hell is Harry?"

The question chilled Sirius to the core. His gaze fell on the child in Remus's arms. Obviously there was still a baby, there was still Harry. Voldemort was gone, temporarily of course, but still. Time couldn't have fractured over _Harry_. "Remus," Sirius said, his voice barely above a whisper. "How do you not know _Harry_?"

Remus was once again reminded of the insanity that had brought them to this point, but they were standing over the bodies of their best friends and their murderer, so he would, once again, temporarily, let it go. Sirius was clearly worse off at the moment, so Remus decided to give him something to do. "Sirius, come get you goddaughter, she just did an impossible thing."

Goddaughter. Sirius's mind stuttered. Moving in a similar fashion, Sirius made his way to Remus to take the fussing child. Remus passed her to him as if the revelation was nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn't for him, Sirius concluded.

Sure enough, a small baby girl was contained within the pink cotton. She didn't look like Harry. Her hair was red, like her mothers. In fact, most of Harry's defining features were replaced with the necessary trait from the opposite parent. Her eyes were pinched in that way children do while crying, so he could not tell what color would be staring up at him when she was done. If he didn't know that this was supposed to be Harry, he wouldn't have even guessed they were related. Everything was uniquely . . . this. A entirely new child in the space once occupied by his godson. The only thing that was the same, was the scar. Clearly this child had defeated Voldemort the same as Harry had.

Only it wasn't a scar yet. It was bleeding, and quite significantly, as all head wounds tend to do. Sirius pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it gently against the child's injury. She whined, but didn't seem to otherwise notice the pressure.

"What's her name?" Sirius asked, the situation nearly breaking his resolve to refrain from curling back into a ball on that cool marbled flooring.

"Sirius, are you bloody mad?" Remus accused furiously.

"Remus, please," Sirius begged. "Her name."

"It's Lucy. Lucile Harriet Potter. Lucy. Your goddaughter," the man nearly yelled. "Look where we are, Sirius! This is hardly the time for-"

Loud, clumsy footsteps downstairs halted his speech, but the look on Sirius's face was worse than any lecture he could have given. "Death Eaters?" Remus asked, drawing his wand.

"No."

"No?" Remus repeated, at his wits end with this man. What else could have made him panic like that?

"Moody, please. I will explain everything, I promise. We can't let them take her."

"He's dead, Sirius, who would take her?"

"Please!" he yelled, only to adjust his grip on Lucy and lower his voice urgently. "You have to trust me. She cannot go with him."

"Okay," Remus finally said. "But the moment this is all over, you are telling me exactly what is going on. Everything."

"Promise me, you won't let anyone take her. Swear it."

"I swear," Remus said. "No one will take her."

"We need to get to the fireplace," Sirius said quickly as the footsteps were now on the stairs.

Sirius fell into a learned defensive position he had picked up during his years in Azkaban. Remus followed suit, raising his wand. The footsteps got closer. And then a beast of a man was in the doorway.

"Hagrid," Remus sighed, relaxing, not realizing that Sirius had, if anything, tightened even further.

"The ministry will be 'ere soon," the half-giant said, his sad eyes resting on the lifeless forms on the nursery floor. "You best be coming down to greet them, I say."

"Very good, Hagrid. Let's go, Sirius," Remus nodded towards the door. The three walked down the stairs, Hagrid ignorant to the gazes fixed on the south wall of the living room.

Remus walked right into the front room and sat down on the sofa, obviously hoping the other would follow. Sirius eyed the strategically close armchair but as he crossed the room to sit in it, Hagrid spoke again.

"Eh, not Lucy, there. I'm to take her to her family. Dumbledore's orders."

Remus froze. Hagrid wanted to take Lucy? "Surely that's not right. Lucy has no more blood relations."

"Miss Lily's sister, Dumbledore says."

"Lily hated her sister. You cannot mean to take her there," Remus said, a hint of steal in his voice that Sirius was proud of.

Hagrid caught it too. "Now wait just a minute. Dumbledore says-"

"It doesn't matter what Dumbledore says," Sirius spoke for the first time since the other man had entered the house.

Remus sighed. Of course that was the first thing out of his mouth. Why couldn't he just let him handle the negotiations.

"I am Lucy's godfather," Sirius continued. "By Wizarding Tradition and the Last Will and Testament of the Potters, Lucy's guardianship rests with me."

"But Dumbledore-"

Remus jumped back into the conversation before either of the others lost their heads. "And I'm sure Dumbledore merely meant for Lucy to have a safe place while the ministry determined the events that happened tonight."

"If that's the case," Sirius began, to the exasperation of his friend. "Then, as you see, Lucy is very well protected now."

"But Professor Dumbledore said it would be impossible for lil' Lucy to grow up in our world, you see. With the stories already spreading. I'm sure, as her godfather, you want her to have the best lookin' after."

"She's injured, she needs to see a healer," Remus tried to appeal to his obvious concern for the girl.

"Dumbledore will see to it," Hagrid insisted.

"It's not Dumbledore's job to see to it," Sirius said, rising from his chair.

Hagrid moved to take Lucy, frustrated that the young wizards were getting in his way. He had a job to do. Dumbledore trusted him. He wasn't going to let Dumbledore down.

Hagrid moved and a split second later, both wizards had redrawn their wands and were staring down the threat with their backs to the fireplace.

"Hexes don't work on me," Hagrid said, hoping to persuade them into giving up.

"What about curses?" Sirius asked. He didn't dislike the giant, but he wasnt letting Harry-or Lucy-grow up in that hellhole again.

"You threatening me?" Hagrid asked.

It was like Hagrid was shocked that Sirius would do such a thing over the well-being of his godchild.

"Are you making me?" Sirius challenged.

There was a tense moment, and then Hagrid charged forward. Remus rammed his shoulder into Hagrid's underbelly, pushing him into a vase that shattered onto the floor along with him.

"Go!" Remus yelled.

Sirius turned to the mantle and grabbed the entire jar of floo powder. Stepping into the fireplace, his eye caught Remus's and his friend nodded, giving Sirius permission to go on without him. Hagrid saw what Sirius was doing and climbed back to his feet, charging into Remus to get him out of the way. Remus simply turned in anticipation to the push and instead latched himself onto Hagrid, taking them both down to the floor again.

"St. Mungo's," Sirius yelled and throwing down the jar, using all the powder and making it impossible for Hagrid to follow them. The nearly instantaneous trip did nothing to calm his racing heart.

Sirius stepped out of the floo into St Mungo's. "Help, please. My goddaughter."

Instantly there were two nurses there, taking the child from his arms and leading them over to the Minister of Healing. The minister was an older chap, but couldn't be more than 60. His eyes were sharp as they examined Lucy at a glance. "What happened?" he asked.

"She was hit with the Killing Curse."

They all stopped. "Son, I don't think you understand . . ." the healer began.

"My name is Sirius Black, I know exactly how the dark curses work. She lived. She killed _him_."

"It's true then?" a nurse gasped. "I-I just heard. They say You-Know-Who is dead. They say Lucy Potter killed him."

That moment there was a loud bang outside the hospital and fireworks of every color exploded in the sky. Everyone's attention was drawn to the windows. What could warrant such a display except the end of the war? Then the owls started. Two, then four, then seven, all flying back and forth amid the rockets of light.

One owl managed to make its way into the medical hall carrying a howler. "He's dead. The war is over! He's dead! The war is over!" It repeated again and again.

"Minister!" Sirius called as the healer was distracted by the celebrations. "Lucy was hit with the Unforgivable curse. Her head won't stop bleeding. You must help her."

Ashamed from his momentary distraction, the minister of healing began shouting instructions.

Sirius had never seen the staff move as fast as they were in that moment. He almost smiled. His goddaughter had just became the most important patient in the hospital, and he couldn't have been more grateful for the trivial celebrations that caused it.

Sirius was led to Lucy's side the moment she was placed in a bed. A private room with only four cots. He stayed back, unwilling to allow himself to get in the way. The minister ran several kinds of diagnostic spells on her. Most were focused extensively on her forehead. He knew they were probably trying to remove the scar. He also knew they would have no luck in doing so.

Sirius needed a plan. He could hardly believe that Dumbledore was 'after' Lucy. Sirius knew how much Harry had meant to Dumbledore personally, even if that was usually overshadowed by how much he needed Harry to do something. Dumbledore had Harry's best interests at heart, in his own certain way, so Sirius had to assume the same went for Lucy. But he had a feeling that Dumbledore would fight him on this.

If Dumbledore started a fight for Lucy between them, Sirius honestly didn't know how it would turn out. Dumbledore was more powerful than Sirius, but he hardly imagined the professor engaging in something as barbaric as a duel, at least not personally. That left underhanded tactics like he tried tonight. Dumbledore could try to bully Sirius into believing that giving up Lucy would be for her best interests. Unfortunately for Dumbledore, Sirius would never fall to such an assumption, knowing the future as he did. So that left what Sirius would consider the field with his greatest advantage. The courts.

Dumbledore could try to get custody of Lucy legally and then send her to live with the Dursleys. But Sirius had every legal right to Lucy's guardianship. The only cards the headmaster held were Sirius's age and Dumbledore's reputation. Surely Sirius could win over the courts when he provided evidence of his claims. Yes, Sirius thought. If Dumbledore wanted to take Lucy from his custody, Sirius would force his to make a legal challenge. That was by far the best option.

Secondly, Sirius had to figure out how he was supposed to go about understanding that Harry was now Lucy, and how that affected the future. Given how Lucy had succeeded in defeating Voldemort, he assumed not much. But he didn't know what else had changed, or what else could change. Sirius needed to figure out all the difference he could and then lay as much groundwork for the prevention of Voldemort's second war before he lost his advantage. Before he changed too much for his future knowledge to even be relevant.

"Mr. Black," the healer's voice brought him out of his thoughts. The nurses were leaving the room, having set Lucy up with monitoring spells and a light dreamless sleep potion.

"Lucy?" Sirius asked, his voice rough.

The minister of healing sat down stiffly on the cot across from him. "She seems to be fine, Mr. Black. There is significant traces of dark magic throughout her, but it's mostly centralized on the right side of her forehead, and seems to be dissipating naturally. It doesn't seem to be harming her, but the scar will not heal. She will carry it for the rest of her life."

Sirius nodded, "As long as she lives it."

The minister smiled lightly at the young man. "You have wisdom beyond your years, Sirius Black. I hope you will put it to good use."

I will try, Sirius said internally. "How do you mean, Sir?"

"The Blacks have a seat upon the Wizagomont, do they not? My wife would welcome the company of a level head."

Sirius felt his brows raise at the revelation of the healer's status. "I'm sorry, minister, I must have missed you name."

The older man chuckled. "I suppose it is important now, is it not?"

Sirius was unsettled at the thought that he had displeased the man. He could be very instrumental to Lucy's case and Sirius genuinely liked the man as well. "I meant no slight."

"Nor was one received, my good lad," the minister chuckled. "You treated me well from the moment you arrived, without knowing my name, that is a great compliment, not an insult. My name is Tomes, Tomes Willahord."

Willahord. Sirius had never heard of it, but he bowed his head just the same. "A pleasure, Sir."

"You as well, young Black," Tomes stood. "I hope your new ward will feel better soon. As it is, she should be released in the morning."

As the minister left, he turned back near the door, "And I am sorry about your losses. The Potters will not be forgotten." Then he shut the door.

Sirius moved to Lucy's bedside. She looked perfectly healthy, the healers had done good work. There was a great peace that settled over Sirius as he gazed down at the sleeping child, something he hadn't felt in years. Most likely the same amount of years that he traveled back, he thought without humor.

Something about watching a baby sleep was mesmerizing. Sirius couldn't quite put his finger on it. Perhaps it was the unwavering trust a child placed in you and how they fell asleep without a care, it was amazing. They lost that as they learned more about the world. They learned not to trust. Sirius made a vow to himself that Lucy wouldn't lose that trust, at least never in him. She would grow up in a household of love, the opposite of what he knew Harry had experienced. And she would never be ignorant. Not of the wizarding world, not of her parents, not of magic, and not even of Voldemort. He would make a life for them in Britain. In the land Harry had sacrificed so much for. In his godson's memory, he would dedicate every action he made until he had succeeded in their goal. After all, Sirius had broken his last promise to the boy.

Sirius didn't save James and Lily. Something had went wrong, but he doubted it was with Hermione. Perhaps it was the time fractures. It was the only explanation that made any sense. Even more, Sirius was looking at proof that the time fractures were going to affect more than cats and dogs. But they had all agreed, the remnants of the Order of the Phoenix had chosen to do this, to risk these fractures for the good of the world. Sirius couldn't regret it, he couldn't afford to.

"I've found you," a haunted voice came from behind Sirius.

Sirius turned to see Remus standing hunched over in the doorway. Remus swayed a little and Sirius realized the other man had stopped for a drink, or had taken one from Godric's Hollow. He watched him for another moment before deciding not to say anything. This was, after all, the first time Remus had lost James. Sirius remembered how he had felt that night all those years ago. He had gone mad with grief.

"There's security . . . put up outside to stop the crowds. They're calling her The Girl Who Lived. They're celebrating. As if they've forgotten the ones who've died."

"He is dead. The war is over, Remus," Sirius said the only thing he could think of to justify them. "Many will live because of her."

Remus hummed noncommittally. "Perhaps."

They were silent for a moment.

"You look much better," Remus looked him over, taking in the steadiness in his eyes and the calmness in his posture.

"I feel better."

"How is she?" Remus asked as he moved closer to her cot.

"Lucy's fine. Resting."

"You remember her name then?" Remus asked sharply. "Earlier, I was unsure if you had even met the child."

Sirius heard both the question and the threat in his friends statement. He sighed. Sirius guessed the truth would be the most believable. Remus always knew when he was lying anyway.

"I hadn't. Before today, or after."

"I beg your pardon," Remus said, affronted.

"Oh, don't be so formal, Moony. You graduate Hogwarts and suddenly you're talking like the queen."

"Sirius. Explain."

"Voldemort's not dead."

The glare Remus delivered was worse than any Sirius had ever seen. "You think this is some kind of joke, Sirius? Is everything a joke to you? James and Lily are dead!"

"And Voldemort is not." If Sirius had not learned long ago to control his temper, he would have been shouting back. But there was nothing to be done about. Sirius would have to show his friend just how serious he had become.

"We saw his body. The war is over. It has to be," Remus collapsed on one of the cots.

"This war is over, yes. But there will be another. It will start in fifteen years, but the seeds have already been planted. Remus there is a second war coming, and Voldemort will succeed in doing everything he failed to do the first time."

The weight that had rested on Remus's shoulders since the start of the war grew even heavier. Padfoot had always had hope. Now he was telling him this. "How do you know this?"

"I've been there."

"You went to the future?" Remus asked incredulously.

"No, Moony, I've come to the past."

"From fifteen years from now? Impossible. There is no such spell and even if there was, who could cast it?"

"More like eighteen years. The war . . . Moony it's been terrible. Everyone—" Sirius's voice broke and he hung his head. Should he tell Remus about his death? About Tonks's death?

"Eighteen years? Why would I believe something like that?"

"I'll make the Unbreakable Bond," Sirius said, pulling his wand from his holster.

Remus stared in shock. To even suggest something as drastic as the Unbreakable Bond told Remus that Sirius was not joking, that he at least believed he was from the future. "And you've come back to what? Kill the Dark Lord?"

"I was supposed to come back and save James and Lily, but something went wrong."

"You knew?" Remus whispered.

"I came back too late, I had only just gotten here when-"

"When you collapsed earlier."

"Exactly," Sirius felt the enormity of his mistake again.

"Padfoot," Remus began. "Who's Harry?" The werewolf knew that whatever the answer was, he wasn't going to like it.

"There are consequences to the time spell. That's why no one uses it, because the creator burned everything about it. But there's this witch, Hermione Granger, the very best sort, she was able to find enough of the research to recreate it."

"So this Granger, she was able to send you back?"

Sirius nodded.

"And the consequences?"

"Time-fractures, I've been calling them. Things that are different than they were before."

"Things you have changed?" Remus asked.

"No, things are just different. They were one way the first time, and now they are something else. I've already found a couple."

"Harry," Remus guessed.

Sirius looked at Lucy and slowly said, "James and Lily had a boy, not a girl."

Remus followed Sirius's gaze as he took in what the other man was saying. "That's impossible."

"It is," Sirius agreed. "But it happened."

"Lucy," Remus stresseed. "Was a boy named Harry?"

"No, I," Sirius paused, "I think Lucy was always Lucy in this time. I think the fractures don't just change events after the time jump, it cracks all the way back. When I came back to this time, reality instantaneously fractured, going back maybe even years. Lucy was born Lucy fifteen months ago, the moment I turned the final circuit eighteen years from now."

"And Harry, what happened to him? He just disappeared from existence?"

Sirius didn't like that thought. Harry Potter's end deserved to be greater than disappearing from existence.

"Harry sacrificed himself to save everyone he loved. We were running out of options, so many of us were already dead or captured. It was only a matter of time. He made this choice, we all did."

Remus tried to understand everything his friend was saying. "James and Lily had a son," he breathed.

"And every life we are able to save, will be because of him."

Remus shook his head, running his hand through his hair. "I'm drunk, I have to be."

Sirius chuckled darkly. "Even you can hold your liquor better than this, Moony."

Remus moved to Lucy's cot-turned-cradle, glaring at Sirius out of the corner of his eye for his comment.

"So, what are we supposed to do? How do we prevent the war from starting again?"

"Voldemort won't have the power to return for nearly ten years. Even then, Harry stopped his first attempts easily enough."

"Harry stopped?!" Remus exclaimed, his glare from Sirius's use of the taboo disappearing in confusion.

Sirius took a deep breath remembering just why Harry had to stop the dark lord's attempts alone. "No one knew. No one believed that he wasn't dead. No one had any reason to, at first."

"Not even Dumbledore?" Remus asked incredulously. Their leader was practically a saint in Remus's mind. The Headmaster had been the first one to reach out to him and give him hope in years after he had been bitten. Dumbledore allowed him to study, to live again. Remus owed everything to the man. When Remus had arrived at Hogwarts, his entire life was given meaning. He had found friends, a family.

Sirius shook his head.

"And where were we? We would never let Lu-Har-Prongslet," he stammered, pausing to see Sirius accept the nickname, "do something like that on their own."

"I wasn't . . . Moony, I was . . ." Sirius felt the shame cripple him. Not just for not being there for Harry, but for having to explain why to one of his best friends. He wasn't sure he could do it.

Remus moved forward and placed his hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Padfoot? What is it? Surely you couldn't have died," he gestured to Sirius's very alive body. If he had died, he wouldn't have been able to come back. He wouldn't have known about the second war. Surely not.

"I wanted to, Moony. Oh Merlin, I wanted to."

"I know," Remus said. "But we have to do what they would have wanted. You have to raise Lucy. This isn't a responsibility you can run from, Sirius."

"It wasn't that," Sirius said quietly, his voice haunted. "Everyone thought I was the secret keeper. Hagrid found me standing with Harry over the bodies. James and Lily and him," he spat viciously. "He told me Dumbledore had arranged for a safe place for Harry, and that he was to take him there. I gave him over, let Hagrid take my bike. Then I went after Peter."

"Padfoot," Remus breathed, hearing the struggle in his friend's voice and wondering just how different this night had gone.

Sirius continued, "I found him—caught up to him in the streets of London—Muggle London. It was a trap. Wormtail yelled—asking me how I could betray James and Lily. Then he cut off his finger and blew up the street. Killed 12 muggles. Ran off in his animagus form. I . . . I was sent to Azkaban. No hesitation. No goddamn trail. I was the secret keeper. I was a Death Eater. My fate was sealed."

"Azkaban? You-you were sentenced to Azkaban. . ."

"And Harry, Merlin. Harry was sent to live with Petunia."

"Hagrid just tried to take Lucy. You made me promise not to let him," the coming revelation was not a welcome one. "What did she do?"

"They abused him. Locked him in a cupboard most of his life. Starved him. Beat him," Sirius's voice broke. "Lied to him about James and Lily. Suppressed his magic."

Remus shook with rage, his hands fisting at his side. "No," he said through clenched teeth. "No. They can't have Lucy. Sirius you can't let them take her."

Sirius nodded resolutely. "The Dursleys will never even lay eyes on her. They don't deserve to know her."

Suddenly, the proximity spell that the war had trained Sirius to sustain at all times alerted him to the arrival of six hostiles. Two outside the large windows, and four coming up the hall.

"Remus," Sirius spoke calmly. "Grab Lucy. If it looks like I'm losing, disapparate."

Instantly, the werewolf's wand was out. "Death Eaters?"

Sirius said nothing.

"I'm not leaving you to them, Padfoot. Marauders don't stand alone."

"For all we know there is another Marauder out there," Sirius said bitterly. Perhaps the time fractures had given Peter some meger amount of courage and he had come to set his trap here instead of the streets of London.

"Sirius, you can't be—"

"Your word, Remus," Sirius demanded as the group arrived outside the door. "Protect Lucy, no matter the cost."

"You have it," Remus swore, knowing he had no choice. He picked up the sleeping child. No one was going to hurt her while there was breathe in his body.

They fell into ready positions just in time for the door to bang open.

 _—Expelliarmus—_

 _—Protego—_

Sirius's shield charm blocked the disarming spell and he fired one back, catching his opponent off guard, and moving on to the next without blinking.

 _—Petrificus Totalus—_

Another fell.

"Enough!" Remus yelled, seeing just who was coming through the door. Sirius was too far into the mindset of 'shot now, question later' to identify just who he was attacking.

"Go!" Sirius yelled at him as he shot off another spell. An intense duel commenced as he came to the last of the four from the hall. The two outside the window seemed to be merely blocking a possible escape route, not coming through the glass to engage him. This last wizard was power. Sirius would have been easily overtaken if he hadn't had the past four years of the war to prepare him.

"Sirius! Moody! Stop!" Remus commanded.

Sirius seemed to start at the other man's name, and the momentary pause cost him.

 _—Diffindo—_

Moody's spell cut through his right arm, forcing Sirius to drop his wand. A body bind was set on him before he even had time to reel from the pain.

"Sirius Black, you are under arrest for the murder of James and Lily Potter. You will rot in Azkaban for your allegiance."

"Moody!" Remus yelled. "Stop! This is madness! He didn't betray them. . ."

Remus trailed off as Moody disapperated with Sirius, followed by the rest of the Aurors. Remus was left holding Lucy, staring after the spot Sirius had been taken from. The silence in the hospital was deafening.


	2. Return to Azkaban

Sirius was more than a little nauseous. First the time jump had left his body weakened, then a few trips through the floo network, and now apparation. It was entirely too many forms of travel in the space of three hours. Not to mention the toll the _Petrificus Totalus_ takes on the mind of its subject. The inability to move or talk while retaining full mental capacity was horrendous, Sirius felt like he was moments away from insanity.

His eyes were immovable, but luckily open. He could see the wall directly in front of him as they apparated into a dark stone hall. Sirius felt dread leak in every available sense. He knew this place.

Azkaban was truly the most miserable place on earth, Alastor Moody thought. Never before had it brought pleasure to him to enter the cold walls, but this was one of those times justice and revenge lined up perfectly. The Potters were dead. They had been betrayed by the one closest to him. Now Moody got to personally send him to the inner circles of hell. Not that Sirius would ever get to hell, no, the dementors would make sure that when he finally reached death, there was no more of his soul for even God himself to judge.

This couldn't be happening, Sirius thought. He didn't go after Peter! The rat couldn't have framed him for the muggle murders, if they even still occurred or not. If he could just get Moody to listen, but the damn body-bind was holding firm and Sirius couldn't get a word out.

dementors circled in the dark sky above them. Hovering just close enough to stake their claim over Sirius, while not endangering the Auror escorting him.

"They can't kiss you yet, Black, but you can bet your traitorous ass I will be here when they do."

Alastor came to the empty cell, one wall still smeared with the feces of the last prisoner who lost his mind in it. He could have just levitated Black in and walked away, but he couldn't bring himself to leave without answers.

He dropped the levitation spell and pushed the coward into the cell, letting his petrified body hit the ground solidly before lifting that as well. Alastor savored the look on Black's face as he slammed the cell door.

"You coward. What was it he offered you Black? Power? Surely you didn't crawl to the Dark Lord for something as worthless as you life."

Last time Sirius had still been raving lunacy from the grief. This time, he could defend himself before it was too late. "I didn't betray James. He was my brother, Moody, I would never betray him. I wasn't the—"

"How dare you! Even now you are too low to even admit to your crimes!"

"I didn't commit any crimes!"

"Liar!" Alastor growled, moving his wand in front of Sirius.

"Moody, please! I—"

— _Silencio—_

The Auror removed Black's ability to speak, knowing the lies of his silver tongue all to well. The lowlife reached out through the bars and Alastor scoffed at his audacity. He was a coward, willing to fall to his knees like a beggar. That was what he was after all, a slave to the Dark Lord.

"You are nothing more than a rat, Black. And you will die here like one."

Sirius grabbed the bars of the cell and shook them in frustrated rage. The irony of that statement was not lost on him. It only served to make him that much more desperate. If he could just explain! Sirius needed to explain. He couldn't be stuck here, not again. Lucy would go to the Dursleys and he would be stuck in Azkaban. He couldn't fail. He needed them to listen!

— _Incendio—_

The bars ignited, sending Sirius flying back, his hands burning hotter than an iron. Silently whimpering, Sirius stared in shock and pain at his raw blistering palms. His hands shook, his fingers contorted in agony.

Alastor looked on grimly. Controlled anger made a good Auror, he knew that, but in that moment he could not prevent himself from sending one more curse at the traitor. One that would say everything that Black continued to deny. He turned and walked away.

Sirius leaned his head into the corner of the cell, feeling the effects of Moody's last spell carving into his chest. Incarceration was worse when you were lucid enough to provoke the escort. The remaining flesh of his hands burned with a fury and if it wasn't for the knowledge of just how filthy these cells were, Sirius would have been tempted to flatten them onto the ice cold stone.

He heard the screams of a prisoner near his cell and for a moment thought of joining him, but thought better of it. Best not to attract the dementors. Sirius knew what kind of memories went first, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing his memories of Harry. Then he realized that even if he wanted to, Moody's spell was still in effect. What was the lifespan of a silencing charm?

Merlin, he couldn't be here again. Sirius wouldn't make it through another stay in Azkaban. He would lose his mind.

It was very considerate of Moody to remember to at least take off the body bind. Sirius was already in Azkaban, it couldn't possibly be enough. No, now he was silenced, bleeding and burned so badly he couldn't even risk turning into Padfoot. If he transformed, his paws would have no choice than to touch the grime and awaiting infection that was the floor of his cell. It was the same cell, he noticed. Same walls. Same bars.

A manic laugh escaped him, for an entirely different reason than the first time he was in this position. Or maybe it was the same reason. Sirius was losing his mind. Out of sheer situational habit, Sirius moved a hand through his hair, causing pain to radiate throughout it. He screamed, but, of course, nothing resounded in the cell except the ringing in his own head.

His heart was pounding so violently he felt as if he was swaying. The disgusting ground beneath him tilted and he stumbled to compensate, only to fall to his knees onto the stone. His hands ended up breaking his fall, skinning the already agonized flesh. He pulled his weight off his hands and rested his shocked body on his elbows. It was too much.

He couldn't catch his breath. His bleeding chest was collapsing in on itself, the weight of a thousand pounds resting on the center of it even as he bent over it to relieve the pressure. The chill of the stone permeated through him, resulting in feverous shakes, all the while his face burning as hot as his hands.

Sirius struggled to stay still, as terror, the likes of which he had never felt, overwhelmed him. He had never experienced this before, he was a Gryffindor. His courage rose when fear was about. It was this place, it was being back here. He needed to calm down. No, he needed to breathe. Take a deep breath, he told himself.

His first attempt shook, but he forced himself to slow down his breathing, even though he wasn't getting any more air. His lungs burned with the effort. He glance up and kept his eyes on the spring underneath the threadbare mattress. Take a deep breath, he told himself again, and this time it came easier. Sirius noticed the rust on the spring, it was a deep orange.

The muscles in his legs jerked and twitched, almost throwing him off balance, but he kept his eyes on that spring. This time was different, Sirius promised his fear riddled brain. Moony knows. He'll fight this. This time was different.

Slowly, the chills stopped, followed by the twitching. Thinking about Moony helped, he realized. Moony knew the truth, he would get him out. He would protect Lucy until Sirius got out. This time was different. Take a deep breath. The spring under the bed was flaking orange dust. Sirius kept repeating them to himself until he could breathe properly without the reminder.

Sirius uncurled himself and to sit against the wall, his head lulling back.

A panic attack, Sirius diagnosed. He had seen quite a few of them during the war, but hadn't experienced one himself. He could stare Voldemort in the face and tell him to screw off, but he couldn't last ten minutes in his old cell. How was that even possible? He sat there, laughing silently at himself with his hands held close to his chest. Pathetic and weak, he thought, shaking his head at the mess he was in.

The night passed slowly. The moon was just visible through the constant storm that surrounded the prison. The left side of the moon was bright and Sirius could identify the familiar shape as that of the waxing gibbous. Which gave them another 3 nights before the full moon. Moony would need to get him out before that or he stood no chance at preventing Lucy from going to the Dursleys. Moony would be taking his Wolfsbane potion in two days which would weaken him, but Sirius was convinced that his friends would get him out by then.

The sun brought a new kind of dread to the innocent convict—Was he even a convict if there was never a trial to convict him?

The morning meal. It was delivered by dementors. Sirius felt his mouth grow dry at the thought. He would rather starve until he was released than be forced to face dementors three times a day. New meat, he thought bitterly, that was what all dementors saw in a new prisoner. For dementors, old prisoners were often less desired because their best memories had already been taken. The stronger the memories, the more attractive you were to the Soul-suckers.

Sirius remembered well the feeling of having memory after memory taken away from him. It was the slowest form of torture, most painful form of 'punishment.' It was bearable if you had something to focus on, much like the panic attack from the night before. But Sirius wasn't sure how bearable it was for someone whose mind had already been through so much.

The cooling of the already freezing cell alerted Sirius to the imminent arrival of a dementor. With a vacant expression, he began to slowly uncurl his stiff, trembling arms. Sirius used his uncut forearm to push the thin blanket over the edge of the cot, forming a small wall. Then he gingerly rolled to his feet and crawled underneath bed, trying to withhold the wince as the movement pulled on the engorged blisters on his hands. Sirius doubted the cloth hut would give him much cover, but perhaps he felt slightly better by doing something to prepare for the threat, instead of accepting his helplessness.

Ice covered the floor in the way that was too familiar for Sirius to dwell on. He clenched his eyes shut, curled his head into the wall with his back to the door and waited.

The movement of a dementor was said to be silent, the most stealthy predator, but those in Azkaban soon learned to identify exactly what they sounded like. It was a silent scream that curdled the blood of its prey and left its victims petrified in terror.

Sirius heard the cell door click open, followed by the long screech of rusty hinges. His heart quicken but he forced himself to breathe normally. It wouldn't do to fall into another panic attack. The temperature dropped another few degrees and Sirius felt the warmth of his breath against his cheek like a candle. He heard the metal clang of his tray being dropped to the floor.

Not allowing himself hope, he kept his body tight, and for good reason. The next moment, the dementor was kneeling down beside his cover. In his years in prison in the first timeline he heard James blaming him for his and Lily's death. Now, under the attentions of the dementor, Sirius heard screams. Harry under the Crucitas. Remus as he watched Tonks die and followed her into death. Hermione being tortured by Bellatix. Harry again. Always Harry. And underneath it all, the small cry of a new voice, a baby.

When the dementor finally tired, it left the cell. The food was forgotten and Sirius wept in his silence, now as emotionally exhausted as he was physically in torment. Moony will come, his tired mind whimpered. It's different this time. They wouldn't abandon him to the darkness.

By midday, an oozing puss had set into the wounds on his hands. The burns had long since stopped burning, but the pain was increasing now. His hands felt hot, really hot, even as the cell cooled in warning of his noon meal. They were a deep red, almost purple. By night fall, he knew they were infected despite his best efforts to keep them off the ground. There was probably enough in the air anyway. A fever had set in, causing his vision to blur and his eyes to ache.

Surely they would be there soon. Moony would have spent today convincing the Order to fight for his release. Maybe they even located Wormtail. It might take 24 hours to prepare an extraction. Sirius would be out of here soon, or so was his hope, growing more and more desperate by the moment.

Only Moony didn't come that night. Nor the next. With the full moon high in the sky, Sirius gave in to his fever, not sure he could wait any longer.


End file.
